


Down the Drain

by FreshBrains



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Bubble Bath, Community: comment_fic, Depression, Gen, Pre-Canon, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that she was suspended, there was nothing else to do but soak and soak until she forgot why she was there in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the Drain

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ comment_fic prompt: _Any, Any female, its 3am and I'm taking a bubble bath, this is what taking a day off work at 30 looks like._

A trail of clothes—purple silk blouse, grey pencil skirt, functional bra and underwear, panty hose—led to the closed bathroom door, the lock latched firmly. One of her thick white bath towels was shoved under the crack in the door, keeping in the steam and smoke.

Beth shuddered as she sank into the hot bath; the water was so scalding it sent an itch across her skin and a clenching in her stomach. Her left hand remained above the water, holding the joint, a cheap metal ashtray balanced on the lip of the tub. Half a bottle of expensive lavender bubble-bath had been dumped into the tub, creating foam up to her ears, and two magnolia-scented candles burned on the bathroom countertop. 

_“Beth, I’m heading out for the day,”_ Paul called through the door, his voice muffled under the sound of running water. Beth didn’t respond, just sank deeper into the tub until only her nose and eyes remained above the water. He was always leaving at weird hours, not giving explanations, and she was tired of asking for them.

She was never a fan of baths when she was a little girl. They took too long, required too much care. She always had better things to do. But after she and Paul started drifting apart and her—her _cohorts_ started talking secretly whenever they could get the chance, it was the only place she felt safe. Alison provided her with numerous goodies—bath bombs, soaps, candles, salts. She accepted them all. Now that she was suspended, there was nothing else to do but soak and soak until she forgot why she was there in the first place.

She stayed in the water until it cooled, the steam settling in a thin layer over the surface. It gave her an oddly comforting feeling, the idea that it was still dark outside, still hours from daylight, but the bathroom lights shone bright above her. The bubbles dissolved, the candles burned away, and she was hazy enough to set the joint in the ashtray and close her eyes.

She was afraid of opening them. She hated seeing her reflection in the clear water below her, that familiar face she hated more than anything. The familiar face she had grown to fear.


End file.
